


Fuck The Future

by Vera_lemur



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-cest, Underage Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:46:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_lemur/pseuds/Vera_lemur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave shows up in the office of Alpha!Dave, unannounced, unexpected, and Alpha!Dave doesn't bat an eyelash. They bang. There is no plot here for once. Feedback desired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuck The Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kimya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimya/gifts).



“I don’t remember ever doing this.” He says, looking bored but with so much amusement in his voice. It’s about an octave deeper than yours, and it makes you shiver. “You would think I would remember traveling to the future and meeting an older me. Because let’s be honest, you couldn’t be anyone BUT me.”

You don’t bother confirming or denying his statement. He knows and he doesn’t need the confirmation, it would only make him insufferably smug and you actually have a purpose here.

Well, it’s not really a purpose. More a reason, and not a very good one.

 

You step forward and marvel silently at his expensive clothing. It reminds you of the suits you wore when kicking ass and taking names in the game. Next to him on his desk are papers and drawings of your SBAHJ comic. There are small trophies of golden men on a shelf behind him, and you don’t need to be told he’s a fucking amazing Hollywood director.

“At least I know I achieved greatness somewhen in the universe.” You say, and it’s not weird that neither of you has greeted the other, because really, do you have to say hi to yourself? It seems redundant.

You step forward again, moving until you’ve invaded his personal space as he sits in a rolling chair that has got to be super comfortable, it looks so god damn plush. He takes off his shades in the half light of the room. There is no need to stand on ceremony with yourself. He’s lived longer and you’ve done so much that even as a scrawny 16 year old barely hitting your second growth spurt you feel like you can stand on even ground. You take off your shades and of course he has the room set so that the light doesn’t irritate your eyes and you can still see perfectly.

He raises a nearly white eyebrow at you and reads your face as though you’ve scribbled your purpose here in marker on it. “Just go on and say it.”

You refuse. Instead you brace one hand on the top of his chair (it’s just as plush and expensive feeling as you thought) and the other on his armrest and kiss him. His hand is on your collarbone quickly and he pushes you away. “Are you legal?” he asks, as though this is an occurrence that happens to him often. Hell, it probably does.

“I’m YOU.” You deadpan back at him. “This is just a complex form of masturbation.”

He takes only 3 seconds to contemplate that before shrugging and wrapping the hand on your collarbone around the back of your neck and pulling you back in. He knows now that you aren’t 18, but he accepts your logic. You always knew you were twisted.

You put one knee on the seat of his chair next to his thigh and without breaking the kiss, crawl into his lap. The hand on your neck cards through your hair and pulls your head to the side so he can lick and suck your neck until he finds your pulse point. You sigh out your pleasure, like the spike of electricity is the soothing warmth of a massage. In a way it is, you’ve been carrying around this tension for longer than you want to admit.

“What did you come here for?” There are so many unsaid questions in his.

“What did you come here to escape?”

“What did you come here to take from me?”

“What did you come here to lose?”

You get the impression that he knows or can guess the answers to most of his questions, he just wants to confirm that YOU know the answers too. It’s irritatingly adult of him and it reminds you of Rose so you bite his ear and he barely flinches but doesn’t protest.

The hand on his armrest fists the material of his suit jacket as you pull him closer and you grind yourself down on him. You’re not really hard, but that’s changing. You’re not narcissistic enough that you find yourself overly attractive, you’re too aware of your own faults for that. It’s more the taboo, the impossibility of it that’s exciting you.

His hand is at your pants, rubbing you through your pants and he seems … more attentive than you’d ever thought you might be. These differences are adding to your excitement and you pull his tie off and toss it onto the desk. He smiles and with the hand palming your cock, he tugs at your shirt.

It’s up and over your head, tossed away only to be captchalogued before it can hit the floor. The hand in your hair moves to the metal bar in your nipple. “I never did that.”

“Even if I wanted to, I’d never be able to grow up into you.” You reply, letting him draw his own conclusions.

He doesn’t reply, but he does apparently find the fact that you got your nipple pierced amusing and begins to play with it with his teeth and tongue. He doesn’t need to ask why you only got one pierced and not two, he knows. You take in a slightly shaky breath and you’re really starting to get hard in your pants now. You grind down on him and he’s still working up to it himself. You let out a short laugh as you think that you know how to fix that.

You push him against his chair, away from your nipple and slide off to kneel in front of him. His hands snap to the arm rests because it’s plain what you’re about to do and if you’re not mistaken he wants to watch you do it.

He’s not wearing a belt, so you pop the button of his pants (if they’re this fancy, are they called slacks?) and pull the fly apart, why bother with the zipper? His boxers are white with the four card suits in a pattern and you think how fucking ironic that is on multiple levels before you reach through the slit in his boxers and draw out his cock, it’s half hard at best and it’s bigger than yours and also devoid of any piercings either. Apparently a career means you don’t get bored enough to try getting a piercing on a dare and end up really liking the shit. It seems a crying shame to you.

You grin at it and take hold of the base, stroking it a few times to try and coax it to full attention and it sort of works. You think to yourself ,”Close enough” and take the head in your mouth and lick.

With your tongue at the underside you feel it when his dick throbs in acute detail, and it’s so trippy you almost grin around his cock. Instead you get down to business and bob your head up and down his length a few times, gauging his size and deciding you’re probably not going to be able to take the whole thing. Good to know you’re going to grow up to have an above average cock.

The taste of him is familiar, and that’s reassuring in a way as you take him as far as you can without risking gagging around him and suck.

The chair shifts from his restraining himself from grabbing your head and you’re grateful. He’s the biggest you’ve ever blown before (mostly because the other Daves you’ve blown have all at least been around your age) and if you were to choke he’d more then likely get a lot more of your teeth then the gentle skims you slip in on occasion that make him shudder.

With one hand wrapped around his base and the other gripping his pants you pick up your pace until he does that breathy moan thing that tells you you should stop before he cums. You pull off his cock and just roll your eyes when he glares at you.

You let yourself roll onto your back on the floor, captchaloguing the rest of your clothes and taking out a tube of lube. He’s looking at the piercing on your scrotum as you lift your knees for ease of position as well as display. You coat your fingers with lube and squeeze out a little right on your asshole. You relish it when his eyes give that infinitesimal flick lower to what your hands are doing and it makes you feel powerful.

You push two fingers into yourself because you’ve done this so much, so often, lately the burn is more than a little welcome even if it makes you wince. You apply more lube, trying to work it into your anus as you gently stretch it and remind yourself of all the different ways you focus your body into relaxing the muscle there.

You’ve done this before, what can you say?

Your legs are getting tired so you let one fall to the floor and rest the other foot on his chair. This is you, and since it’s you there’s no one to impress so you don’t hide how much your enjoying yourself. You try and mostly succeed in not taking your eyes off him but you can’t keep your hands away from your prostate. You’re 16, you know it’s there and that it makes you feel like nothing else, you don’t have that kind of self control when it’s all occupied with keeping your anus relaxed.

You add a third finger and wait until you can scissor all three comfortably before holding out the lube for him. He takes it without taking his eyes off of you.

His hand is automatic in coating himself in your cherry lube. It’s an ironic joke about popping cherries that you think he gets, but might not be paying attention to.

He stands, kicking his chair away from you and your heel hits the floor hard, the zing up your calf tells you it landed on a nerve and you grit your teeth as you ride your way through the temporary pain.

He rubs a hand up and down the thigh of the offended leg and grabs your hips, half moving to you, half pulling you to him. You don’t care about the rug burn at your back as you rest your calves on his shoulders and watch him line up at your entrance.

He doesn’t ask you if your ready, well he does, but it’s only to look you in the eyes to check for a reason not to. There isn’t one and he pushes in and GOD you have never put anything as thick as he is inside yourself before.

The carpet under you isn’t long enough to get any kind of grip on, but you dig your short nails into it anyways.

One of his hands is next to your head and the other is resting over your pierced nipple and the thumb and forefinger are playing with it almost lazily.

He’s not all the way inside yet and you don’t ask for a progress report. He flicks your barbell and your chest arches into it a little and he smiles down at you in a perfectly casual way.

He stops and that’s your cue that he’s finally all the way in, He fills you up so much more than anything but it doesn’t feel like you’re going to rip apart, which is nice because you were kind of worried about that.

He does another silent check without asking if you’re good before drawing out. You hiss a little and he takes it as a cue that he should put more lube at your entrance before moving in again, a little faster than before. You lock your ankles behind his head and deliberately tighten around him and he groans as he pushes in before pulling out and doing it again.

He gets a good rhythm going quickly and you can practically hear the backbeat of your next mix in your ears as you lift your hips to meet him thrust for thrust to get him deeper inside you. He’s all too aware of where you prostate is and you can feel yourself getting closer to cumming and you have to throw in the melody and which pieces of music you’re going to use in that remix to keep yourself from blowing early.

You don’t try to kid yourself that the two of you are going to cum in unison, how fucking cheesy, but if he comes after you you want it to be right after so you can still be orgasm high and brain dead to the world for that moment.

His rhythm breaks from the one you’ve been keeping in your head and he’s getting faster and more erratic and you let the song you’d been making go so you can focus on getting off. He’s getting faster and there’s that breathy moan thing you’ve been biting back yourself and God the fact that he’s gonna cum is really hot and you let one hand ungrip the carpet and pump your aching cock before you reach down with the other hand and pull at your scrotum piercing.

You cum a full four seconds before he does, time elongates without you consciously doing it and in the milliseconds that are becoming minutes you think he might have blown his load because you pulled at your piercing and he apparently thought it was fucking hot. Your eyes cross, you love it when you drag out your orgasms like this but you know that it’s bad for your body so you let it go after a while and the world speeds up again.

He’s not aware you got a few minutes of orgasm but he looks pretty pleased with the seconds he got. You decide not to let him lament what he doesn’t miss. His hand slides off your chest to your side and he manages the decency of not collapsing on you.

He pulls out after collecting himself and you lift your legs off him to rest at his side. The concern on his face tells you that he is now mentally berating himself for fucking you bare and you just chuckle because you know yourself too well.

“I haven’t done anything with anyone but me.” You tell him, “Ever.”

It gives him a lot to think about but he seems to be satisfied that he doesn’t have to go see a doctor and get some kind of pill or embarrassing cream. “You wanna hop in the shower first?” 

You nod and sit up, straining not to make too much of a mess even though you’ve got cum all over you inside and out. You know where the bathroom is, where the towels are and you move with Strider grit and only a little bit of a waddle. Strangely enough, hearing his chuckle behind you only makes you feel warm inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Let it be known throughout the land that I am a feedback junkie and beg all that enjoy this fic and any others i write to please leave constructive criticism.
> 
> Gifted to Kimya, because I was feeling Stridercest-ish and this is what she asked for. Good girl, Best Porn buddy.


End file.
